Living with You
by Yunagirlamy
Summary: She knew him before. She had regular phone calls with him, letters from him; heck, they even chatted on Windows Live Messenger a few times. But now… they have to live together. And she has to live in an entirely different country altogether.
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes: Right then. I have been thinking about this for a very long time. Therefore, I am finally going to do it. Now, I won't reveal just what it is at the moment, but once you realise what it is, you'll probably roll your eyes, groan and mutter, "Oh, not one of these again." But trust me. This one will be different. I promise. And I am willing to spend loads of time to research any medical facts if I need to. So, there you go. Also, some words will be misspelled but that is to show the main character's accent. To make it easier for me to write, I have given her the same accent as me, so I can sit here, say the words, and write them down how I think they would be spelled. So if you get confused, just ask me, okay?**

**Summary: She knew him before. She had regular phone calls with him, letters from him; heck, they even chatted on Windows Live Messenger a few times. But now… they have to live together. And she has to live in an entirely different country altogether. **

**Disclaimer: I do no own anything, except for my original characters. You know which characters I **_**don't**_** own.**

**-- is a scene change or a different point of view.**

**Enjoy!**

**Prologue: Goodbye Old Life—Hello New Life.**

**--**

Tears filled her eyes as she sat down on the comfy seat. She looked out the window and realised that this might be the last time she ever saw this country. She felt her mother's hand on her shoulder. Fortunately, her mother's hand couldn't say how everything is fine and she really shouldn't on the verge of tears.

Unfortunately, her mother came with a lethal weapon—her mouth.

"Sweetheart, everything is _fine_. You really shouldn't be on the verge of tears."

"We haven't even taken off yet."

"Exactly! You're going to love America, you know."

'_Yeah right…' _she thought miserably. So far, her image of America hadn't been good. So she wasn't exactly pleased when she was told she was going to go and _live_ there. She'd have to get used to new things. Cars driving on the wrong side of the road. The steering wheel of the car being on the wrong side of the car. Bigger cars. There were three things already. The list went on for miles and miles. She could think up a few more.

Wearing no uniform for school. That wasn't an advantage, because then she would have to choose something different for everyday.

Spellings of words, such as "colour" and "favourite". She'd have to start writing them without a 'u' in.

Not being able to say "damn" and "hell" and not be told off for it. In America, she knew that saying those two words was looked down upon. So she would have to get used to saying "dang" and "heck" now.

Having to use different words for things. For example, she'd have to say "chips" now instead of "crisps" and "french fries" instead of "chips".

She hadn't even arrived in the country yet, and she was already confused. She felt a headache coming on.

"Mom, no I won't. Everything's different there. And all people are gonna whear coming out of me mouth is a posh accent." She didn't have a posh accent. "I'm gonna whate it."

Her mother shook her head, her thick brown hair shaking. "You ay gonna whate it. Trust me, you're gonna love it."

She crossed her arms. "Yeah right."

One reason she could think of to hate America was that it was making her leave behind her best friend. Because, obviously, her best friend couldn't go to America. She remembered when she told her best friend. It was one of the most poignant memories that she'd ever had.

And she was only ten.

--

_It was break time and two girls were sitting on bench on the playground, enjoying the rare sunny weather. They both wore a cardigan, polo t-shirt, and a black pleated skirt. Plus socks and shoes, obviously. On their cardigans was the school name along with the school logo._

_One girl had a smile on her face. She had short, curvy blonde hair that shaped around her square-shaped face. Her blue eyes were almost the same colour as the ocean. She had a fair skin tone, but thanks to the sunny weather, it was becoming darker._

_The other girl had a frown on her face. She had long, brown hair that was neither straight, nor curly; however, it curved around her oval face. The colours of her eyes were so dark, it was almost impossible to see the pupil in her eye. She had pale skin; but it wasn't becoming darker. Unlike her friend, she actually put sunscreen on._

"_Georgia… there's summat impor'ant I have to tell you."_

"_What?"  
_

_She breathed in deeply and then breathed back out. "I… er… I'm moving to America."_

"_What?! Why?"_

"_I… I don't know."_

"_Oh my god… this is so unfair!"_

"_But I do know one thing."_

"_What's that?"_

"_I'm going to live with my Dad." The way she said it, anyone would think it was a bad thing. Well… in _her_ case… it _was_._

"_Eh, that ay such a bad thing! You've always said how you've wanted to meet your Dad."_

"_Yeah well… I thought that he would come over here. Not the other way around."_

"_Well, he's a doctor, in he? Doctor's apparently earn a lot of money. You can have anything you want!"_

"_Am you forgetting that me Mum's a business woman?" She could already have everything she wanted._

"_Oh ar, yeah."_

--

"Mom, why _do_ I have to go?"

Her mother sighed and just started to read the book she had bought on with her. "Well… I just think it might be good for you live with your Dad."

"Does Dad know?"

"No."

'_Oh. Well… that's bloody fantastic. Not.'_

"Maybe it would have been a good idea to tell him," she suggested. She knew if her Dad knew, she wouldn't even be _on_ this aeroplane.

"No, you know what your dad's like. He would have said no."

'_And that wouldn't be such a bad thing…'_

She closed her eyes, hoping to fall into a deep sleep. After all, America was a long way to go and it was in a different time zone too. In fact, the country was so big; all different parts of it had different time zones. That was yet another thing she'd have to get used to.

Not having her mother around.

Her mother wasn't planning on living in America. She was only on the aeroplane so her child wouldn't be on it alone, and she was fairly certain that wasn't allowed, anyway.

She would miss her mother.

She would never admit it. But she would miss her.

"I'm going to miss you, sweetheart."

She opened her eyes and looked at her mother with a look of curiosity.

"I know you aren't going to admit that you're gonna miss me. You get that from your Dad."

She looked out the window and sighed softly.

'_America… here I come.'_

--

The first thing she felt was a hand repeatedly shoving her shoulder. Quite violently, too. It was rather annoying. "Stop it," she mumbled, half-asleep, half-awake.

"Sweetheart, we're here. We've arrived."

She quickly opened her eyes and looked out the window. It was day. It was eight o'clock at night in England when they left. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Where am we?"

"New Jersey."

"This is the county Dad lives in, innit?"

"It's 'state' over here, darling. And yes, it is. Come on, we better get off the aeroplane."

She sighed.

--

After they collected their luggage, they waited outside the airport, hoping to catch a taxi. But since they had never been in America, they didn't how to call one.

"I think you whave to whistle, Mum," she suggested. Her mum pursed her lips together and whistled. But no taxi responded. "No, not like _that_. Like this." The ten-year-old placed her thumb and index finger in her mouth and whistled. A taxi soon pulled up. She smiled in victory.

Her mother rolled her eyes, and let her daughter get in the taxi, whilst she loaded the luggage into the boot. After that, she got into the back, and got some dollars out of her pocket. She had come prepared.

"Where to?" the taxi driver asked.

"Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, please."

"Ten bucks, please."

The young girl's mother smiled and handed the taxi driver the money. She then buckled her seatbelt and looked at her daughter.

"You nervous or excited?" she asked.

"Both," her daughter answered. She was more nervous then excited, though. She knew that her father had three people to boss around, so he could be with them when she met him.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll be fine."

--

The taxi pulled up at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, and waited until the luggage was taken out, before driving away again.

Mother and daughter turned to each other; both had tears in their dark eyes. Without saying a word, the mother bent down and gave her a daughter a tight hug. Her daughter hugged just as tightly back. She wished they could just hop on a plane back to England.

"Where are you gonna go, Mum?" she softly asked.

"I'm gonna stay in an hotel for a few days, and then I'm gonna whead back to England. Oh, I'm going to miss you _so _much. My precious little girl."

Her daughter only nodded and they broke away from the hug.

"Bye, Mum."

"Bye, sweetie. I'll see if I can visit you while I'm here, okay?"

Her daughter nodded and held up her hand to wave goodbye as her mother walked away. As her mother disappeared from view, she sighed and turned to face the hospital.

She never knew that was the last time she would ever see her mother.

**--**

**PROLOGUE COMPLETE**

**Hmph. That was short. But then again; aren't prologues meant to be? Oh, do you know what? That was a crap prologue, weren't it? So much for a good start to the story. It will get better, I promise you. I bet you've already guessed what type of story this is now, eh? Well, if you have, it's gonna be different from the rest. Honestly. Please review.**

**Yunagirlamy, 5.8.09.**


	2. Why are you here?

**Author's Notes: Right then! The first chapter. This will be better than the prologue, honestly. For one, it's got the characters we all know and love. This is set in series three, by the way. **

**Summary: She knew him before. She had regular phone calls with him, letters from him; heck, they even chatted on Windows Live Messenger a few times. But now… they have to live together. And she has to live in an entirely different country altogether. **

**Disclaimer: I do no own anything, except for my original characters. You know which characters I **_**don't**_** own.**

**-- is a scene change or a different point of view.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter One: Why are you here?**

**--**

Gregory House walked – with the help of his walking stick – into his briefing room where his loyal team of three were already sat. House threw the file down that he had in his hands onto the table, startling the female member of the team—Allison Cameron. She had fair skin and brown eyes. Her brown hair was curly and trailed to just beyond her shoulders. The other two were males and in complete contrast to each other.

One of them had light skin and dark blonde hair. His eyes were a medium grey and he had a thick Australian accent that anyone could mistake for a British accent. This was Dr. Robert Chase. The other one had dark skin and very little black hair. His eyes were a dark brown. He had a moustache and a beard, but both were not very thick. This was Dr. Eric Foreman.

"Woman, mid-thirties. Regular headaches and throwing up. Take your pick," House announced.

"Could be just something she ate," Chase suggested.

"That's not a diagnosis," House replied. "Cameron?"

"Could be food poisoning. Explains the vomiting," she answered.

"But not the headaches. Foreman, you got any ideas?"

"Er… House. You got a visitor," Foreman stated, nodding towards the door. House turned around and saw a young girl, her hand on the handle of her suitcase. House walked over to the door and opened it.

"Your parents aren't here little girl, now go away," he rudely said. But to his surprise, the girl didn't move one muscle. She just continued to look at him with her dark brown eyes. "Are you deaf or something?"

"No," she spoke, an English accent coming out of her small lips; however, it was not an upper class accent. "You dow recognise me?"

"Yes, because I know so many little girls from England," House replied sarcastically. "No! Now go away! My team and I are very busy trying to cure someone sick."

"Because that's your job, innit?" the girl asked, brushing past House and standing where he had been not a minute ago. "How much money do you get from it?" House was getting annoyed with this girl now. Whoever this girl's parents were, they'd have to teach her some manners.

"Yes, and none of your business. Now go."

"Alright, I guess I've kept you in the dark long enough," the girl stated. "It's me, Hayley."

House tensed up. _Hayley_? What was _she_ doing here? And where was her _mother_?

"How did you get here?"

"Well, I asked some receptionist lady where your office is and she told me where to go," Hayley answered, a cheeky smirk on her face. "Or is that too specific for you?"

"Who are you?" Cameron suddenly enquired.

Hayley turned to face Cameron. "I'm Hayley Hannah House. I hail from the county of Staffordshire in England, and I'm his," Hayley pointed a thumb towards House, "daughter. Any questions?" There was a deadly silence. "Right then."

"Where's your mother?" House asked, his tone full of solemn. His question immediately wiped the smirk off Hayley's face and replaced it with a frown. She looked down to the floor and sighed.

"She left me. Brought me here and then left me."

"Why did she bring you here?" The question came not out of House's lips; but rather out of Cameron's.

"Me Mum thought it'd be best if I lived with me Dad," the young girl answered.

"Come with me," House announced. "Leave your stuff there. My team aren't thieves. Well, except for the black guy. He used to be an ex-car thief. But unless you've packed any cars, you have nothing to worry about."

Hayley nodded and left her suitcase leaning up against the wall.

"Bloody hell," Chase said after the two left, "House has got a daughter."

--

"Are you a G.P?" Hayley asked, whilst she and her father walked down a corridor.

"A what?" From the tone of his voice, Hayley guessed that her father was confused. No surprise either, since America had different words for some things.

"A G.P. It stands for General Practitioner," Hayley answered. She felt quite smart for knowing it, and even more smart for remembering it. There were not many kids in her class that knew that.

"A general practitioner of _what_?" House asked, his imagination running wild.

"Medicine!" Hayley cried, thinking her father would know that. Then she remembered something. A G.P wasn't called a G.P in America. They were called Medical Doctors or M.D for short. "You're an M.D, aren't ya? Which is the same thing as a G.P. I really don't see why you don't say the same things as us. It'd be easier. Hey, you should anyway because if it wasn't for the British—"

"Look kid; either you shut up or I tape your mouth shut. Which one would you rather have?" House threatened, and by the sound of things, he wasn't in the best of moods. Hayley made a motion of zipping her mouth shut. "Wise decision."

'_Where are we _going_ anyway? And I thought this was a hospital. Dow look like one. I guess American hospitals are different. There's a lot of different stuff here. I really wanna talk! Godamn it. I'll just blurt out a question.'_

"Am I allowed to say piss?"

House stopped walking and turned around to face his daughter. "No."

"Why not?!"

"Because, piss is cussing in your country," House replied. "Therefore you can't say it."

"Well, by that logic, I should be allowed to say damn and hell," Hayley retorted. "They are, after all, not 'cussing'," Hayley made speech marks with her fingers, "in my country."

"But I'm the adult and what I say, you obey. No saying damn or hell." House was not about to let his ten-year-old child outsmart him. "You cannot say any words that are cussing to me or to you. Understand?"

Hayley sighed and crossed her arms moodily. "Fine, whatever."

House smirked. He had won this battle of smarts—however, he still had yet to win the war.

--

"So why do you think House went over to England?" Cameron asked her colleagues. She was just as curious as they were as to why House had a daughter. An _English_ one at that! Her accent completely threw the stereotypical refined, upper-class English accent out the window, though. Cameron had never heard an accent like the one Hayley had. However, she found it cute. Cameron thought it was probably not a good idea to actually admit that to Hayley, though—if she was anything like her father… god help everyone.

"Maybe he didn't go to England," Chase suggested. "Maybe the mum came over here."

"Maybe the mom isn't even English. Maybe she's American, went over to England and raised her baby there," Foreman said. "Aren't we meant to be diagnosing? All this gossiping is not gonna help this woman get better."

"Why don't we just run an MRI test on her? Check to see if there's anything wrong with her brain," Cameron replied.

"Yeah sure," Chase said. "We'll have to wait until House comes back though. You know, to get the idea thrown down and then convince him we should do it."

--

Being an oncologist was not an easy job.

At least, that's what James Wilson thought.

Suddenly, the door to his office flew open and House barged in, a young girl following him.

That, of course, did not make the job any easier.

"House, I have a considerable amount of paperwork—"

"Meet Hayley," House cut in, "my daughter."

Wilson's mouth kept open and he only stared at the girl. "So… _you're_ Hayley?"

"Well, do you see any other young girls in here?" Hayley responded.

"No, I mean, _you're_ Hayley. House has told me about you. A lot," Wilson remarked. "You know, I thought you would have—"

"Blue eyes like me Dad?" Hayley interrupted. "Nah. Brown eyes like me Mum. And I had no choice in getting brown hair. S'pose I could always… dye it."

"It's fine as it is," House quickly said. "Right, we're off to go and see the twins."

"The twins…?" Hayley was dumbfounded.

"You'll see when we get there," House replied, walking out the door. Hayley shrugged and walked after him, shutting the door behind her.

"She's gonna be just like House…" Wilson commented.

--

Lisa Cuddy sat at her desk, trying to figure something out. Or rather, some_one_. Many of her staff had come in and reported that there was a young girl following House around. Who _was_ this young girl and why was she following _House_ around?

Her door then banged open, and House walked in. Cuddy saw that the young girl was still following House around. Just as she was about to ask who she was, House started to talk.

"The twins, meet Hayley. Hayley, meet the twins."

"House, you should not be saying such things around young children."

"I ay young!" the girl blurted out with a strange English accent. "I'm ten-years-old."

"House, who _is_ this girl?" Cuddy asked, standing up.

"He said my name is Hayley! Or does your chest hear instead of your ears?"

Cuddy widened her eyes at the young girl. She couldn't believe such things were coming out of a _child's_ mouth! It was like she was an… offspring of… House. "Is she by any chance related to you, House?"

"She is my demon spawn," House responded, a big smirk on his face. He could tell that Hayley and Cuddy were not going to get along. This made things interesting. _Very _interesting.

"Can we go now?" Hayley asked, looking and sounding very bored.

"Sure," House said.

--

"So, what diagnosis do we have?" House asked, walking into his briefing room. Hayley entered too, looking rather annoyed.

"We don't have one," Cameron replied, "but we were going to run an MRI test to see if there's anything wrong with her brain."

House nodded. "Symptoms fit brain tumour. Go run one."

All three team members and went out the room. Not all three had to go but they figured that House would probably want to talk to his daughter alone.

"So, I was thinking…" Hayley announced.

"Careful—you might hurt yourself doing that."

"God, if I had a pound for every time someone said that, I'd be rich," Hayley commented. "Anyway, I was thinking. How well do you know me? Like, do you know my favourite stuff and such?"

House sighed and sat down on a chair. He rested his hands on top of his walking stick. "Favourite colour is purple, favourite food is something called Dairylea, favourite band is Queen, favourite movie is… okay, I don't know that one."

"It changes, like, every month or somethin'."

"Don't tell me you do that regularly."

"Do _what_ regularly?" Hayley enquired, "Change my favourite film regularly?"

"No. Say that… _word_ in every sentence." House closed his eyes, almost looking like he was in pain.

"Word…?" Hayley was beyond confused. "Ohhh… you mean the word like!"

"Yes. _That_ word. Do you repeat it in your sentences regularly?" House opened his eyes.

"Er… kinda. Yeah," Hayley smirked as she knew saying 'like' in every sentence would annoy her father, "Been saying it since, _like_," she purposely strained the word, "Year Four."

"Well… don't do it again." House was enjoying this new power. It wasn't like the power he had over his team.

Hayley crossed her arms. "No, because it isn't swearing in neither mine nor your country."

"I don't care."

"That wasn't the deal we had," Hayley pointed out.

"We never _had_ a deal," House retorted.

"Exactly! Having no deal means I never agreed to not say certain words in exchange for somethin' else. So _there_!"

House grumbled. His daughter had won _this_ battle of the wits.

But she would _never_ win the war.

Hayley grinned as she made a mental note of the scoreboard.

'_Dad – 1. Hayley – 1. I shall get higher before he does. Muwahahahaha!'_

**--**

**CHAPTER ONE COMPLETE**

**Sorry, couldn't resist a little humour there. Oh my god! It's so much fun writing for House! I thought it would be hard to keep him in character—but it really isn't! You know, I never planned this little battle of the wits between House and Hayley. But it's going to be so damn interesting throughout the rest of the story. And no, before you ask; Hayley's favourite things aren't my favourite things. Except for the band of course. And Dairylea **_**is**_** my favourite cheese. And purple is my lucky colour. Okay, so sorta based off me there. Oh well. Who cares? Please review!**

**Yunagirlamy, 16.8.09.**


	3. New House… or Flat rather

**Author's Notes: Erm… a bit of bashing the Christian faith in this chapter. But I see nothing wrong with that. It's my views on Christianity. But sorry if any of you are Christians and it offends you. Please don't let it put you off reading the rest of my story. We all know what House's feelings are towards Christianity, right? Let's just say my views are the same. If you can watch House and not be put off by it there, I'm sure you won't be put off by it here. Oh… and no offence to anyone living in a flat.**

**Summary: She knew him before. She had regular phone calls with him, letters from him; heck, they even chatted on Windows Live Messenger a few times. But now… they have to live together. And she has to live in an entirely different country altogether. **

**Disclaimer: I do no own anything, except for my original characters. You know which characters I **_**don't**_** own.**

**-- is a scene change or a different point of view.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter Two: New House… or Flat rather.**

"So where do you live?"

House gazed over at Hayley and then continued to bounce his red ball off the wall of his office. He was sat behind his desk. Hayley was sat in the chair in the corner, both legs crossed. She was looking all over the office, taking in the surroundings. She thought it could do with a bit more colour; but then again it wasn't _her_ office.

"Underneath a roof."

"Really? I _never_ would have guessed!" Hayley replied.

"Glad to see you're familiar with the language of sarcasm," House said. "Wait… that could be a bad thing."

"The English are best at sarcasm." Hayley smiled a proud smile. "And _why_ would it be a bad thing?"

"Because it means I could have a sarcastic teenager."

"I'm not a teenager _yet_," Hayley pointed out. "And you still ay answered me question…"

"You know, because of your strange accent, I might not be able to understand what you're saying."

"My accent ay strange! And the only way you would not understand me is if you did it on purpose. And answer my question, for god's sake!" Hayley demanded. But now she knew that her father was going to question her religious beliefs because she said the word 'God'. She didn't believe in god, however. She believed that all the stories in the bible were just… stories. And stories are things that people make up. So everything in the bible was just made up. Just one big story book. That's all Christianity was to Hayley.

"Don't tell me you believe in God. If you say yes, my hands might accidently find their way around your neck," House said. He stopped throwing his ball and looked at Hayley. "You probably think I'm joking. I'm not."

Hayley softly laughed. "Don't worry; I doe believe in God, or Jebus or anything like that."

"Did you say _Jebus_?" House enquired.

"Yeah," Hayley grinned.

"I like it," House replied. "I'm going to use it from now on."

Hayley shrugged. "Whatever. You still haven't answered my question."

"Technically, I did. I said underneath a roof. I think that counts as an answer, don't you?"

"Erm… no. I'm not gonna stop askin' you until you give me a proper answer."

"Fine. An apartment."

Hayley blinked; a perplexed look on her young face. What was an apartment? Some kind of house that was only in America? Or maybe it was an American word for something? So Hayley decided to ask. "What's… an apartment?"

Her father seemed caught off by that question and Hayley softly chuckled to herself.

"Well, it's a… place where there's lots of floors and people have their own rooms on each floor."

That explanation was enough for Hayley—she finally understood what House meant by apartment.

"Ohh! You mean a fla'?"

"Is _that_ what you Brits call apartments?"

Hayley nodded, speaking as she did. "Yes. Normally people who aren't very well off live in them."

"You mean poor people?"

Hayley fidgeted. "Well… erm… kind of."

House raised an eyebrow. "Kind of?"

Hayley sighed. "Okay. Yes, poor people." She really did not want to say that, in fear of how her father would react. He was obviously well off, so he might have taken offence to it. Hayley sat, waiting for House's response. House put down his red tennis ball, grabbed his walking stick and then walked over to Hayley. The way he was towering over her and staring her in the eye was making Hayley feel intimidated and uncomfortable. Yet, she stared right back into his blue eyes as he looked into her brown eyes.

Then House spoke.

"Do _I _look poor to you?"

Hayley shook her head.

"Well don't say things like that or I may just find another use for this cane," House said, holding his walking stick upside down in the air. Hayley numbly nodded her head and silently gulped. Her hands unconsciously went to her backside and she started to breathe heavily. House suddenly grinned and walked out of the office, silently beckoning for Hayley to follow.

"Where are we going _now_?" Hayley questioned as they walked down the hallway in the direction of the lift. _'Or elevator,' _Hayley silently thought.

"To the cafeteria," House answered. Then he stopped walking, thinking about something. "Okay, I think I know this one. Canteen, right?"

Hayley knit her eyebrows together and crossed her arms. "What the hell are you going on about?"

House mockingly scoffed. "And you call yourself a British person!"

"No I don't," Hayley remarked.

"What _do_ you call yourself then?"

Hayley uncrossed her arms and looked to the floor. "… An English person."

"Wow, an _insane_ amount of difference there." Hayley heard the sarcasm clearly in her father's voice and brought her head up to glare at him. He only winked. "And you thought only the English are the best at sarcasm."

He walked into the lift and waited for Hayley to follow before he pressed the down button.

"I'm guessing it's lunch time then?" Hayley asked with a sigh. She had not been in America long and already she was fed up with it – and she had to live here for at least eight more _years_? She wasn't sure she could last eight more _minutes_. Americans were so… _weird_. What was supposed to be a hospital did not look like a hospital at _all_.

"Just to let you know, we're not in an elementary school," House replied.

"Primary," Hayley corrected. Then she smiled. Correcting Americans on their language would surely piss them off, especially her father. Then he would send her back to England to live with her mother again. Hayley silently praised herself for thinking of such a wonderful plan and then frowned again when they got off the lift because she didn't want her father to question her on why she was smiling.

When they arrived at the canteen (Hayley figured that the British word for cafeteria was canteen), House asked her if she wanted anything to eat. Hayley declined. She didn't want to taste American food _just_ yet. House only shrugged it off and got some weird sandwich for himself and a fizzy drink.

They sat down at a table and in-between bites, House began to ask Hayley questions.

"So, why has your mother dumped you in this hellhole?"

Hayley looked up in surprise. "What…?"

"I'm your father. That means I can always read your mind. Plus, you're English and English people hate America." House put down his sandwich, rested his arms on the table and leaned forward. "So… why?"

Hayley shrugged. "She said that she thought that it would be good for me to live here."

"Hm. Sending a really patriotic English girl to live in America? Yeah, that's _such_ a _great_ idea."

Hayley let out a single, soft laugh; a smile crooking the corners of her lips.

"Any career ideas?"

Hayley pursed her lips together. _That_ had been something she hadn't put much thought into. She had always accepted the idea of just working on a till at Tesco, ASDA or even Morrisons. Maybe she could do the same thing in whatever supermarkets they had in America.

"Not really," Hayley said. "I don't have any talents."

"Who said you needed a talent to get a job?"

Hayley shrugged. "I've always thought that talent was required."

"Oh yeah, because it takes talent to type on a keyboard."

Hayley could hear the sarcasm in House's voice. "You're a very sarcastic person, aren't you?"

"Now you know where _your _sarcasm comes from." House then picked up his strange sandwich and started to eat again. Hayley looked on with a small amount of disgust and then rolled her eyes, simply deciding to ignore the weird antics of House. One day, she would figure him out.

After finishing off his sandwich, House began to ask another question.

"Any other _alive_ relations?"

Hayley's head snapped up. "What do you mean by that?"

"You were expecting to live with _me_?" House was surprisingly serious. Hayley stood up, violently slamming her hands on the table as she did so. All other people in the canteen turned to see the scene unravelling before them. Hayley glared at them all.

'_Nosey buggers.'_

"Of course I was! I mean, you _are_ my Dad, right?" Hayley heard people gasp at this. "I've come all the way from England, and now you're turning me _away_? What kind of father does _that_?"

"A father like me does," House calmly and solemnly responded. "I'm not cut to be a father and I don't even _want_ to be a father."

Hayley stared wide-eyed at House and she could feel the tears filling her brown eyes. "You don't want me at all?"

"No."

Hayley started to cry. That single word broke her heart into a million pieces and she felt that her world crumbled away, too shattered to even try to pick up. She knew that all eyes were on her, but when she looked at House, he wasn't there. He had silently disappeared, like the coward he was.

Hayley didn't care, though. Let him run away. But _she_ would _not_ run away from _him_. She was going to be damned if she was going let House do what he wanted.

It was time to do what _she_ wanted.

**CHAPTER TWO COMPLETE.**

**Hi. Yes I know, long time to update, but does anyone even **_**read**_** this story? If you do, I officially love you. And drop a review or two. Then I'll marry you. Oh, Sky One HD rules. Mmm, Hugh Laurie in HD. *drools***

**Yunagirlamy, 12.5.10. **


End file.
